Messing Up
by SippingWhiteTea
Summary: Spain reflected that he was indeed very talented at what England referred to as "fucking up". Pairing mentioned: SpUk, some parental! Spain and parental! Spamano (only platonic/parental), mentions of OC called Gibraltar (merely mentions). Warnings: yaoi pairing (also known as boy x boy).


**_Warnings: yaoi also known as boyxboy pairing mentioned. Some parental! Spamano (extremely platonic, since I can't actually imagine that pairing happening since it reminds me too much of the relationship between Yuki and Chairman Cross from the manga Vampire Knight for some reason), and mentions of an OC called Gibraltar. Don't hate the OC, since she never actually appears. It's called Messing Up since Fucking Up wouldn't fit with the Guidelines/Rules._**

_To be honest, _Spain reflected, _I'm not too bad at what Inglaterra calls "fucking up"._

That could've been interpreted as an understatement.

The Spanish Armada he had formed with his people and rulers had "fucked up" whatever relationship he and _Inglaterra_ he ever had. Gibraltar had been his then. She was the only reason _ Inglaterra _ever even spoken to him ever again while being somewhat civil. _Inglaterra_ would only ever be tense and cold to him at best after the first failed invasion; condensing and rude at the worst.

It was a cold rainy day when his precious _Arturo (_no, he could only call him _Inglaterra_ after that since he would get a broken nose or black eye if he called him by his human name) threw the ring he had given him into the mud. Those beautiful emerald eyes showed no emotion except for a cold fire burning beneath.

Then there was Gibraltar.

Where had he gone wrong? He had tried being there for his daughter, not favour Lovino over her or her over Lovino, but somewhere along the lines, they both grew distant from him. Spain really tried his best to become the best parent he could possible ever be, but sometimes, sometimes, when she asked why she had no mother, he couldn't answer.

He lied, and told her she had no mother. That she was born and found without one.

In a way, that was true. Nations didn't have parents. They were "found" in some ways, if they actually had "parents" that meant that they had taken after one or two nations in genetics. That, or they were part of the nation or a part of the world that would be related to said nation.

The lie didn't last.

Once she had called him "_Padre_". Now she and Lovino called him "Stupid Spain" (sometimes in perfect unison with each other). If she had called him that around five centuries ago, he certainly wouldn't have smiled and brush off the insult like he would now. Perhaps fatherhood had really mellowed him.

One day, however, Gibraltar had found out. He wasn't sure who told her (certainly couldn't have been France or Prussia, since he had forced both of his best friends to secrecy about his little girl). However, no matter how, she had found out.

It was a storm of screaming and shouting (proving that indeed, she had inherited _Inglaterra's _lungs). She was lucky that she was his "little girl"; back then, he was violent and ridiculously easy to antagonize at times. Spain is the country of passion after all.

Soon, things worsened between them. The cold harsh silence and angry resentful glares passed between them made the atmosphere for anyone that met both highly uncomfortable. Sometimes Gibraltar would ask about her mother, but he would never say anything except for vague comments like "he liked the sea" or "he thought tomatoes were poisonous".

Still, no matter what, his little girl would take every small comment like it was a rare, precious treasure. Her eyes (Which were _Inglaterra's_, like the precious emeralds from the New World) would sparkle with delightful and she would skip off his a overjoyed expression on her face like a holy miracle had just happened.

Then, in the eighteenth century, she returned to her mother's place. He had mourned the loss of his darling daughter; when she was gone the odd and slightly unbalanced family Lovino, she and he had been had quietly vanished. Instead, it left him alone with Lovino. Lovino could never fill in the gap Gibraltar had left, as much as both wished.

Sometimes, he would swallow his pride and visit _Inglaterra. _Doing his best to ignore the cold expression on his former lover's face (and the small glares given at his back when the island nation thought he wasn't looking), he would try to talk with Gibraltar and see how his little girl was doing.

She had done very well. To his chagrin, _Inglaterra _was a great parent. He was kind, caring, considerate, patient; so many things Spain had barely seen when they were once together, yet _Inglaterra _showed that all to his children. Spain couldn't find a fault with his former lover's parenting. There was a warmth, a cheerfulness that radiated from them; something that shouldn't have suited the rainy, cool background, but it did.

This depressed him, since as they were a family, he felt like some outsider staring in from the window. Like he was intruding on something private that certainly didn't belong to them.

_Inglaterra_, before that, would occasionally pop up into his life as an enemy; a pest. The pirate (a privateer he called himself, but he was just a pirate in Spain's eyes) would loot and raid Spain's ships, stealing many ships's worth of gold and silver. Sometimes _Inglaterra _would capture him, other times he would capture _Inglaterra._ They would always toy with the other when they did, making sure to make it torturous as revenge for whatever they did.

There were a lot of harsh words passed between them; insults and threats had a tendency of being the main part of their conversations.

But, when _Inglaterra _had the idea of holding Lovino (who had sneaked on the ship in secret) captive to guarantee he and his ship's safe passage, all of Spain's previous problems with dealing anything particularly nasty or fatal to the man that he had once loved flew away. That was their first serious fight, with great injuries on both sides.

That incident left Lovino with a fear of the British man with the cold emerald eyes so like his pseudo sister's and a sinister grin.

The visit to Gibraltar after that was especially strained. He had hesitated many times before finally visiting the place where they resided; deliberately taking longer routes and unfamiliar streets.

It was a visit that thrummed with all the tension that filled the air; so thick that one could cut it with a knife. Gibraltar had no idea of what could have possibly happened between the two (Spain would later be glad, at least the pirate had the decency of keeping his little girl innocent of that part of the island nation). Still, it was well after bedtime that Spain had confronted _Inglaterra_, furious about what had happened.

He was too sure of the events after.

All that he knew was that in the morning, he and the English man had woken up in the same bed naked with the smaller man quite sore in certain areas. There had been copious amounts of alcohol involved (he wasn't sure how, maybe sometime after the argument?) but the awkwardness between them had increased threefold. It was then that Spain wholeheartedly decided to stop visiting for a while. He couldn't keep up the pretense of pretending that he didn't want to hurt the nation that Gibraltar considered also as a parent.

It was after then the fights became more and more vicious. They were bloody, Spain would have to say that. All the anger, resentment and the need for revenge clouded the space between them; they let go of their humanity and morals then. Spain didn't care that _Inglaterra _was raising Gibraltar, that Gibraltar obviously loved and adored him as much as she adored he.

Although Spain gained many scars then, it was he who dealt the most serious wound.

Every time after that incident, he would feel proud looking at the eye-patch that hid the lost eye from him. That eye he had claimed with a scream from the blonde, a pain-filled scream that even sent shivers down his spine. It was revenge for threatening the remnants of a family he had left.

But he didn't have time to dwell on those things then, and when he had, he never did. Back then, he was more concerned about the present than the past. He never thought back on his mistakes.

Soon, despite his best efforts, his empire fell. And a new one rose to power.

The British Empire.

He hated that reminder. That the man who had left him, left him because of his foolish mistakes (though then he didn't admit that), was now one of the leading powers in the world. Also, he hated the loss of power, of strength that he once had. Although he wasn't by any means weak, he lacked the might and force he had once.

Years had passed after that, _Inglaterra's _own empire began to erode. He had experienced the feeling of a civil war (quite unpleasant). Once, he became a fascist, and that had lasted longer than Germany's own time as one. But just like many other things, that didn't last too.

So now he was here, dredging up old memories of the past that should have been forgotten.

Spain forced himself to get up, and walked away, still somewhat immersed in the past.


End file.
